- Author: Joy Humphrey
When I buy a rose, I consider several things: color, growth habit, location requirements. These are all important aspects to ponder to ensure a thriving plant and a visually appealing garden. But something else I consider, which has nothing to do with gardening success, is the name. I love rose names. They can be serious (‘Hope for Humanity') or silly (‘Yabba Dabba Doo'). They can evoke grand emotions (‘Falling in Love') or the desire for a cocktail (‘Tequila Supreme'). They can memorialize a famous person (‘Frida Kahlo') or a famous place (‘Disneyland'). The depth and breadth of rose names make giving a rose as a gift uniquely suitable. For a friend's 60th birthday, I gave her ‘Golden Celebration.' When my girlfriend gave birth to twins, her sister gave her ‘Double Delight.' Before I moved to Northern California, my sister's going away gift to me was ‘Burst of Joy.' In the same way, a rose can be a perfect way to memorialize an event. When Queen Elizabeth II died, my husband reported the news to me and then went directly to his computer and ordered ‘Queen Elizabeth.' I never fail to think of these memories when tending to my roses; it makes gardening chores more like meditation.
Not every rose in my garden has a meaningful name to me. I bought ‘Sunbelt South Africa' because it was a patio rose, I liked the apricot color, and that's what the garden center had available. It was a similar situation with ‘Westerland' and ‘Eleganza Sunny Sky.' All lovely roses, but the names don't resonate with me, which is probably why I continually forget what they are called. However, there are two roses on my wish list whose names I know I would never forget were I to add them to my garden. One is ‘Ketchup & Mustard,' a stunning red and yellow bloomer with a name I find hilarious in its unpretentiousness. The second is ‘Bloom of Ruth,' a rose I saw at the Chelsea Flower Show in London years ago and have coveted ever since, but I've not been able to find it in the United States. Ruth was my mother's name, and I would love to be able to remember her as I tended to her rose.
- Author: Denise Cottrell
As a child rambling in the garden, I was delighted to find a lady bug. I would extend my hand in the bug's path and gently scoop it up. I would watch it traverse my fingers and palm and turn my hand as I carefully examined the bug with thoughts of
Lady bug, lady bug fly away home,
Your house is on fire
And your children are all alone.
Suddenly, wings would appear from under the red, black polka dotted shell and the lady bug took flight. As an adult, I silently rejoice when I find lady bugs wandering my plants and I silently whisper “stay.”
- Author: Tanya Kucak
The first year I grew tomatoes at a community garden (elsewhere in California), lots of critters munched my fruit before I could pick it. I had a garden neighbor who grew rat habitat (an unmanaged berry thicket), and I did several things that mostly stopped any predation (except by humans!).
One. I started growing every color of tomato except red, figuring that the red color was an "eat now" beacon.
Two. I grew more cherry tomatoes, figuring if a critter bit or took one cherry tomato, I probably wouldn't even notice, because cherry tomatoes are so prolific.
Three. Surmising that the critters were nibbling tomatoes because they were thirsty, I started putting out a small water dish in my garden, and changing the water every day.
Four. I learned to pick the bigger tomatoes at first blush. Once the tomato has developed some color, the seeds are ripe and it will ripen indoors. This also made it easier to transport tomatoes home without damage. I don't think an indoor-ripened tomato tastes different from a sun-ripened one (a subject of continuing debate on tomato forums!). And in this climate, picking at first blush keeps the tomato from getting sunburned or getting overripe before you can pick it. Furthermore, some tomatoes have different flavors at different stages of ripeness, and if you pick them at first blush, you have the opportunity to find out what you prefer. This is especially crucial for lovers of tart tomatoes!
For example, tomato breeder Fred Hempel once observed that if you pick his 'Rainbow Jazz Heart' tomato when it's mostly green striped, it has a citrusy, tarter flavor, but if you wait until it gets fully colored, it's a sweet, rich tomato.
Another example is 'Black Krim', which I think develops its full flavor as a green-when-ripe tomato, when it is just starting to turn color. If you wait until it is fully dark, you have about 2 seconds to eat it until it is a puddle of overripe mush. It has no shelf life once it is fully dark. But it is an incredible cooked tomato. The Fedco seed catalog concurs: "Don't wait too long to harvest this delicate heirloom tomato. At half green and still firm they are already dead ripe and perfectly delicious. If you wait till they are fully purple, you will not be able to get them from garden to table intact (to say nothing of market) and they will disintegrate like a hunk of road-kill. Krims are strikingly iridescent purple on the outside, usually with dark green-black shoulders and noticeable catfacing. Interiors are part black, too, with an unusual juicy yet meaty taste and texture, described as having “…a smoky flavor like a good single malt scotch.” "
- Author: Christie Mesias
This past Picnic Day, Master Gardeners were available to answer the community's questions. One question reigned supreme: What is happening to my peach tree?
If you are noticing puffed, curled, and discolored leaves on your peach or nectarine tree, the culprit is likely the fungus Peach Leaf Curl. While there are some peach and nectarine varieties resistant to the fungus, that is not the case for all varieties.
Peach Leaf Curl becomes noticeable a few weeks after leaves have emerged on the tree. Left untreated for a few years, Peach Leaf Curl can detrimentally affect the growth and health of a tree, but it will not cause widespread damage to the tree immediately. While some fruit production may be decreased, the fruit is still safe to eat.
Once leaves have dropped in the fall, apply a copper fungicide, which can be purchased at your favorite garden supply store, all over the branches of the trees. Larger trees may make this a cumbersome task, but it's important to fully saturate all sides of the branch. Repeat the application in the spring before new leaves have emerged.
Be mindful of how many years you apply copper fungicide, as copper can build up in the soil and negatively affect soil organisms.
Here is a link to the calendar of operations on how to care for your peach tree for the year: https://homeorchard.ucanr.edu/Fruits_&_Nuts/Peach/
- Author: Peggy Smith
My mother, in all her wisdom, once sent me a wooden garden stake that said, “I tried… but it died”, when I take somewhat drastic measures to try to save something in the garden, I always bear that in mind.
Our pomegranate came with the house when we moved in the 70s and has provided us with a great crop every year and the best jelly. It always just grew like a weed each year and I left it to its own devices with growth above the garage roof height so that it provided some roof shade in the summer's heat, only pruning to keep the path clear and to minimize debris in the gutters.
Times change, a fence and the neighbor's major plumbing work was one blow to the roots too many and the pomegranate lost all its vigor. Combine that with this piece of roof being prime solar panel real estate it looked as though it was time to say goodbye. The dead wood, weak and what appeared to be dying top growth was surgically removed with a chain saw to leave just a tall stump that I would figure out what to do with later. Not a practice conducive to prolonging life.
The bare and barren stump sat quietly through a winter then pushed shoots in many places, should I whack it back and remove the stump? Or should I acknowledge Mother Nature's tenacity and see if I could have both pomegranates and solar roof space?
Espalier seemed to be a solution, but it's a process that is usually begun with a young shrub or tree and then each year the growth is guided and encouraged until maturity. This seemed to be asking a lot of what used to be a proud and vigorous mature tree.
The first year, I selected some of the new shoots to become the future espalier structure, pruning out other multiple shoots so that those that remained could strengthen and become dominant. I also considered I had to leave enough foliage to support the hopefully improved and healthy tree. Some thrived others did not, so again I pruned to the strength of the growth. I gently bent the shoots to roughly where I would like them to extend then sat back and waited for another year's growth. This year, I was able to choose and form the new ‘limbs' into a somewhat idiosyncratic espalier along the fence. Not necessarily something that would win a prize for form in a garden show but hopefully they will thrive and will continue to provide us with those beautiful jewels of pomegranate seeds for the best jelly.
Pomegranates are notoriously resilient, growing like weeds, this would not have worked with say a peach or a pear. Now I wait in great anticipation for the first flowers, and if there's enough fruit, I'm sure this year's jelly will taste the best we've ever had!